


Gone

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Gen, Marijuana, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 17:44:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5975746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s kind of a Cinderella moment -- one minute, he’s bumbling around his ratty little life; the next, he’s in the castle and dancing with the prince. Except none of the princess movies he’s ever seen (which would be just about every one ever made, though he’d never admit it) involved massive bongs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gudling the Rascal](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Gudling+the+Rascal).



“Wow.” Finn’s knows his eyes are wide, probably ridiculously so, as he stares at the twisted contraption of glass that sits on Poe’s dresser. But no matter how hard he tries, he can’t keep his amazement (and horror) from pushing his eyelids even higher. “Is that -- are we gonna use that?” 

“Yep,” is all Poe says, but he does flash him an encouraging smile. 

It makes Finn feel a little better, even though he knows that it doesn’t really mean he’s special, that Poe treats everyone with the same kind of cheerful amiability. He still can’t believe that he, a lowly sophomore, is in the actual home of  _ Poe Dameron _ . It’s kind of a Cinderella moment -- one minute, he’s bumbling around his ratty little life; the next, he’s in the castle and dancing with the prince. Except none of the princess movies he’s ever seen (which would be just about every one ever made, though he’d never admit it) involved massive bongs.

“It’s just so… big.” He sounds helpless and kind of panicky, he knows, and he winces at what Poe must think of him, but he just gives Finn a pat on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” he says reassuringly. “It’s not as scary as it looks.”  
“Can we hurry up?” Rey, perched on her beanbag, is just about vibrating with excitement. Her eyes are gleaming, and she reaches out eagerly as Poe hands her the bong. She fumbles with it for a moment (it’s her first time too, after all) before, grinning with pride, she gets it settled in her lap.

It’s actually kind of pretty, with a slender neck and glass swirled with blue and green. The body of it is curved in such a way that it kind of reminds Finn of a swan -- and it’s got to be at least as big as one. He’s been determinedly  _ not _ thinking about what is going to happen tonight, but now, with the evidence in front of him, he starts to get truly nervous.

The whole thing had been Rey’s idea -- after all, who else would be ballsy enough to approach Poe Dameron in the hall and ask if he could help them “try some stuff”? So this is all Rey’s fault, another crazy adventure of hers that he will be a reluctant victim to. Of course, just as it always goes, he never quite works his way around to saying no.

Poe pulls a guitar case from the corner, rifles through one of its front pockets, and procures a baggie of something that definitely isn’t oregano. Its scent is strong enough that Finn can pick it up from halfway across the room: kind of a mix of skunkiness and citrus. 

“My parent’s don’t really care that I have it,” Poe explains as he opens the bag. “I just like to keep it in there so that its handy. Nothing goes together like music and marijuana.” 

Finn manages a weak nod.

Rey is eager to be a part of the process, so Poe shows her how much water goes in the bong, how to put the stem in, and how to pack the bowl (Finn looks away at that part). 

And then it’s time.

“You ready?” Poe calls over. Rey shoots him a look that says  _ you’d better be _ , and Finn approaches cautiously. 

“Are we just gonna do it here?” He’s stalling, and Rey knows it; her look turns into a glare. 

“Yeah. Like I said, my folk’s don’t care. C’mon over here.” Poe gives him that smile again, and Finn finally sits himself on the edge of the bed beside him. 

“Alright,” Poe continues. “I’m gonna take the first hit so that I can show you guys how to do it, okay?” Balancing the swan-bong in one hand, he procures a lighter from the pocket of his jacket, holds it to the green-packed bowl, and torches it. Finn watches, fascinated in spite of himself, as the bong sloshes and bubbles. He can see the smoke, thicker and whiter than he expected, roiling through the glass.

Poe breathes in for a long, long time. Even when he’s finished, he holds it in for another second before blowing out an enormous cloud of smoke. Finn can’t help but be in awe of his lung capacity.

A lazy grin crawls across Poe’s face as he hands the bong to Rey. She has a harder time lighting it -- the flame dangles in front of the weed, but refuses to catch until Poe instructs her to suck it into the bowl by breathing in. She coughs when the smoke first hits her throat, but determinedly puts her lips back on the mouthpiece and takes another pull.

Looking extremely pleased with herself, she thrusts the bong toward Finn. He holds it away from his chest with both hands like a soiled puppy. His inhibitions have lessened a little after seeing Poe and Rey use it with such ease, but he’s still not completely sure what he’s doing, or if he’s really going to do it. 

“Come _on_ , Finn,” Rey sing-songs. “Just go already.”  
“Alright,” he says, more to himself than to her. “I’ve got this. I’ve got this.” 

The lighter kind of hurts his thumb, even though Poe says that he’s take the safety off to make it easier to use. He has the same problem as Rey with getting the stuff to light, until she helpfully tells him to breathe in deep like he does with his clarinet in band. Then the smoke just  _ whooshes _ into him, so heavy and hot that he can hardly breathe. He immediately begins to hack his lungs out.

When he looks up, eyes watering and hands clutching the bong, he expects them to be laughing at him. Instead, Poe looks impressed.

“That was a great hit!” he says enthusiastically. “Look at you, already a pro!”

Suddenly the burning in his throat is  _ totally _ worth it.

It’s easy, after that, to relax into the routine of passing the bong around. He loses track of how many hits he has taken, how many rounds the piece has made, how much time has gone by. It’s started to move differently, stretching out and then snapping away like a rubber band.

“It’s like your hair,” he tells Rey. “Like the bands in your hair. The time… it’s just…” He snaps his fingers waves his hands in an arc to illustrate his point. “Shooting off. Gone.”

Rey nods in agreement, her cheeks flushed and eyes even brighter than before.

“Oh my God,” Poe says, sounding at the edge of laughter. “You are completely blazed. On your first time, too! Congrats, man.”

Finn, feeling pleased with whatever it is that he has accomplished, enthusiastically shakes Poe’s hand. 

“Yes, yes,” he replies gleefully. “You’re so welcome. I mean, thanks. I mean, yes!”

Poe laughs for real this time, then tells them to sit tight and leaves the room. Finn sprawls backward on the bed, giggling at nothing in particular.

“You’re acting so  _ stupid _ ,” Rey tells him happily, but she trips on her way over to sit beside him and can’t get back to her feet because she’s laughing too hard.

Poe helps her to get up when he returns, Finn having been similarly incapacitated by the hilarity of the moment. He only manages to calm his near-hysteric cackles when he catches sight of what Poe has brought with him: a pitcher of lemonade and a tub of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. 

Finn has always thought that Poe was cool. But seeing him now, laden with such nectar and ambrosia, Finn realizes that he is actually a  _ god _ .

The flavors are like nothing he has ever experienced. It is as though he has gained limitless insight into each subtle layer of taste -- the saltiness, the sweetness, the creaminess. He finds himself moaning ecstatically, his cheeks bulging with food, and Rey just about busts a gut laughing again.

The ice cream and lemonade are gone in a flash -- and then the chips, popcorn, cookies, and sodas that Poe dutifully retrieves for them. Within half an hour, Finn is so full that it almost hurts to move. Perhaps calculating that his guests are in enough of a food coma to still their tongues for a moment, Poe goes back to his case and retrieves a guitar. It’s beautiful. Sleek and shiny; sturdy yet delicate. When Poe flutters his fingers across the strings, the sound shivers across the room and right under Finn’s skin. The echoes, the notes, the music reverberate through every corner of his being. And then Poe opens his mouth and begins to sing

Finn is crying before he can even process what the words are. Rey lets out a great baying cry that might be a sob. They quiet themselves after a moment, Poe’s voice enrapturing enough to ensure their silence. They hardly even breathe; they just sway in place and feel. Something wonderful is washing over them, through them. Everything is connected; everything is peace.

When the song finally ends, its last note stretches like a thread between them. Poe’s smile is soft; not proud, but content. Finn and Rey lean against each other, and then both reach out to take one of Poe’s hands. They don’t have to say a word.

They fall asleep that way, and awaken to the slanting morning sunlight with their hands still tangled together.

**Author's Note:**

> Be safe with drugs, kids.


End file.
